Eileen, It's Cold Outside
by JemimaLee
Summary: Oh, you know what it is! Christmassy fuzzy fluff, ONESHOT Rigleen... Eileen gets stranded at the park house on Christmas Eve and adorable stuff ensues... R&R!


**Takes place not long after 'Merry Christmas Mordecai'.**

**Well, it's that time of year. Prepare for oodles of cheese and fluffiness based around the song 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' and just… well Merry Christmas Rigleen fans! ;)**

**I do not own Regular Show, blah-di-blah-blah…**

**Eileen, It's Cold Outside**

"Go Fish."

Eyes met over the cards, two pairs – brown and darker brown – narrowed at one another as the game became heated. Tensions rose, then fell as she scanned her hand, then rose again as a delicate paw reached out to the deck.

She fished, and missed, and sighed.

"Yes! HA! In your face!" Rigby hurled his arms into the air as his cards scattered around them.

Eileen smiled, rolling her eyes as she put her losing hand down on the table, "Yeah, yeah. I know you're a sore loser, but there's no need to be a _painfully_ sore winner too."

He sat back with his arms folded, baring his comparable fangs in a smug grin, "You're just jealous that I beat you like a billion times."

"Actually, it was closer to three out of five." She corrected. "Remember what I said about exaggerating?"

He waved a hand dismissively, but he was in good spirits; it was Christmas Eve after all.

"Okay, what should we do next?" He asked eagerly.

He watched her eyes take a quick glance at the clock and felt a sinking feeling. It started to chime for eleven o'clock. Had they really been shooting the breeze all day? It felt so much more like firing rapidly into a storm when Eileen was around; that is, to say, much more fun. Especially since…

There came a thump from upstairs, and a groan, followed by Rigby's own whine of misery, "Mordecai."

Eileen stared up through the ceiling, trying to picture their depressed friend moping around in their shared room. It had been a week since the 'incident' at her party, and she felt somewhat responsible for her small part in his grief. After all, she might have mentioned earlier that his ex-girlfriend was in town.

"Maybe we should go check on him," she murmured. She began to stand, but Rigby seized her wrist and pulled her back onto the couch.

He'd picked up on the guilt in her voice and frowned, "Don't bother. Look, I know Mordecai, and you can't talk to him when he's like this. Best to just let him get it out of his system himself."

"But if-"

"Eileen!" He said, his voice rose slightly. "Drop it, okay? I already told you. It's not your fault."

She weakened under his gaze. It was somehow firm and comforting at once.

She sighed, "Okay. But I gotta go."

Rigby leapt to his feet, following her as she started collecting her cards, "What really? But we were having such a good time."

Eileen straightened shuffling the cards back into their pack, and hiding a small smile from her friend; it sure was nice to see that he wanted her around. But alas…

"Yeah, it _was_ fun, Rigby. But I've got to go home, see my family. My parents came all this way just to spend Christmas with me." She smiled rather sheepishly. Heck, given the option, she would spend the entire Holiday with him, it was so rare that they ever got to spend this much time alone together. It was sort of bittersweet how long it had lasted, but it would be business as usual when they both started work again the following week (if one could call Rigby's job 'working').

Rigby pouted at the floor, "Ah right, yeah. Family and all that." He made a dramatic eye-roll and flopped onto the couch. "Gee, it sure must be nice to have your family go to all that effort for you."

"Oh stop, Rigby." She said sternly. "I know they invited you home for Christmas. But _somebody_ said they wanted to be here for their best friend…" she wiggled her eyebrows knowingly, giggling at the dawning look of confusion on his face.

"How could you possibly know that?"

Eileen shrugged innocently, "It was on your mom's Facebook wall. She and I are friends. By the way, those are some adorable baby photographs of you she has on there."

As Rigby's expression turned to one of unnerved humiliation, Eileen just laughed and thumped his arm. "Relax. I think its sweet that you're sticking around here for Mordecai. He needs you right now."

Rigby rubbed his arm where she had bumped it, blushing a little, "Yeah, I guess."

There was a brief pause in the banter as Eileen wrapped her scarf about her neck and pulled on a bobble hat. Rigby couldn't avoid smiling at how adorable she looked. One wouldn't imagine she was in her twenties, with that youthful little face of hers poking out behind all that knitted wool. He suddenly felt an urgent need to walk her home, but when he brought up the idea, she turned him down.

"I'm fine, I walk much faster on my own." She said, and reached for the door handle.

Almost instantly the pair were blasted off their feet by a flurry of wind and snow that came bursting through the front door. Through the howling noise Rigby wobbled to his feet and managed to force it closed again. Without a word they both hurried to the window and gasped.

Somewhere in the hours they had lost together a blizzard had started, and had buried the park in a substantial few feet of snow; the porch was hidden completely and they could barely see past it out into the world of white and crystal. Snowflakes whirled around the window so fast that Rigby began to feel dizzy and stepped back as Eileen watched, her breath forming on the glass.

"Oh dear."

"Well, looks like you're not getting out of here tonight." He said.

She turned her head, "Huh?"

Rigby nodded to the storm, his voice somewhat hiding his apparent joy, "You can't go out in that. You'll freeze. Like a popsicle."

Normally she would have laughed at such a silly analogy, but she felt an immediate sense of panic, "But… I-I _have_ to! I have to get home!"

"What's the big deal?" He shrugged. "You can go home in the morning, right? Your parents won't mind you sleeping here."

There were few ticks that he always noticed about Eileen; the way she would push her glasses up when she was embarrassed; the way she would rub her nose when she was thinking hard about something; or, his personal favourite, how she got this sly little smile on her face when she was feeling devil-may-care. This one he knew very well: fiddly fingers meant she was nervous about something.

"Alright, what's up?"

Sure enough, her fingers went from tearing at her scarf to twiddling in her hair as she blushed hotly, "It's just… you see, my parents… they're kinda… how do I put it...?"

"Strict? Stupid? Hippies?"

She huffed, "No. They're just a little… old-fashioned. If they knew I was staying here, in a guy's house, well they wouldn't like it. They'd be suspicious."

Rigby smirked, "Suspicious about what..?"

"Don't play dumb, you know what I mean."

He laughed. Somehow finding out Eileen had rather conventional parents wasn't a surprise, but it was a little funny. No wonder she was so highly strung.

He received an elbow to the ribs for teasing her, and he jostled her lightly, "Okay, okay, I'm done laughing. Just… tell them you're staying at Margaret's?"

"Margaret's my roommate, or have you been absent for the last week and a half?" Her face paled suddenly. "Oh God, what would _Margaret_ think?!"

Rigby frowned now, "Who cares what she thinks? She used to stay over all the time!" He lowered his voice, aware that he was being a little abundant with his revelations. "How do you think I got used to sleeping on the sofa?"

"I guess," she smiled a little.

He raised his hands, "Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll sleep down here, and you can have my trampoline."

Eileen winced; as much as she appreciated what he probably assumed was chivalry, her idea of a cosy night did not consist of sleeping on a trampoline.

"Oh Rigby, if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer the couch."

Rather than looked offended, he beamed; she could almost picture the light bulb flashing over his head, "Hey yeah! We'll _both_ sleep down here. It'll be a sleepover!"

Eileen's cheeks turned a dizzying shade of red, "… both of us?"

"Well yeah," he nodded. "Honestly, I don't wanna share a room with Mordecry right now, he's bumming me out big-time. Please, Eileen, don't make me share with him!"

This was it: Rigby was practically on his knees, _begging_ her to stay with him, even eager to share a room together, and on Christmas Eve no less. It was as if all her wishes were coming true at once, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she ought to be more virtuous and chaste, and _GOD_ how she hated those words… why couldn't she just have it her way for one night?

"… I… really can't… stay…" she heard the words leaving her lips, and yet she didn't believe them.

He was giving her the baby-raccoon eyes – big, brown, pleading, "I can make us hot chocolate!"

She blinked, "Hot chocolate?" Her voice held a lick of curiosity, and Rigby was on his feet again.

"Yeah! Oh man, you haven't lived until you've tried my Hot Chocolate Rigbys!"

Eileen grinned, "Okay, what the deal? What's so special about your hot chocolate?"

He winked, "You won't find out unless you stay over."

Of course she blushed at that, but as it turned out his addition to the drink was nothing more than putting a full chocolate bar in with the mixture. And when she asked if it was more chocolate than was necessary, he told her there was no such thing as unnecessary chocolate.

Her eyes widened in mild surprise as the warm drink went down smoothly. Thick and rich, but not sickly; Rigby never ceased to amaze her, "It's delicious!"

"Told ya!" He grinned and added more whipped cream to his own drink, then leant over to add more to hers just as she put it to her lips. She pulled back the mug, revealing a very likeness of Santa Claus with a whipped cream beard.

Rigby was mortified, starting to apologise, when Eileen began to laugh and eagerly licked the errant topping from her face. He joined in too, after realizing she wasn't annoyed with him. He noticed that she had missed a spot on her nose and scooped it off with his finger, blushing.

"Heh, my bad."

"Heh, it's okay." She replied.

A moment of silence, both of them blushing over their mugs as eyes darted around, avoiding one another. Just like playing cards again; tension; excitement; wondering.

Rigby stepped up, affirming the situation, "So you're staying. I'll go get some blankets."

She nodded silently and watched him go, taking out her phone and beginning to text.

_Hi Mom. Really sorry that I won't be home tonight. Caught in the blizzard! Staying at a friend's house, home in the morning. Merry Xmas, love to you and Dad xXx_

She sighed, expecting a barrage of texts and phone calls to follow. Rigby returned in a manner of moments, struggling with a stack of sheets and pillows.

"You can have the frilly pink ones." He stated. "I think they belong to Pops. He won't mind."

She chuckled, taking them gratefully, "Thanks."

The moment of truth: how were they to do this? There was one couch, and two of them. The math didn't work out.

Rigby read her mind, "You take the couch."

"Oh, I couldn't-"

"Really it's fine. You're the lady, ladies get the couch." He settled the argument by starting to set his bedding up on the floor.

And she had no choice but to concede, for whom could argue with such gentlemanly behaviour? Honestly, she had no idea who he had learnt from but she had a feeling that perhaps a certain Blue Jay had dropped a few pointers for him. That made her smile gratefully up at the ceiling as she lay back against the cushions.

Her phone buzzed silently, and she glanced at the message from her mother, fearing the worst, and was pleasantly surprised.

_No problem baby. It's so cold outside! You stay safe and we'll see you in the morning. Love Mom & Dad X_

She smiled sleepily, turning on her side to face Rigby. He blinked at her; had he been watching?

"Eileen?"

"Yes, Rigby?"

He shuffled beneath his blanket, getting comfy, and grinning, "I'm glad you stayed over."

She yawned, "Me too."

Cosy silence.

"Eileen?"

"Rigby?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

As the couple drifted into visions of sugarplums, both couldn't help but wish, just perhaps, that there had been some mistletoe lying around the house.

THE END

R&R!


End file.
